


Blister

by ThunderGreen



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Dubious Consent, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Organized Crime, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29890548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThunderGreen/pseuds/ThunderGreen
Summary: Suh Johnny, an alpha with a mission ends up tangled in the family affairs of a sex crazed omega.
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung, Lee Taeyong/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Mark Lee/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas
Comments: 12
Kudos: 105





	Blister

**Author's Note:**

> Since I'm sad Bourbon is almost coming to an end, I've decided to start on this new story. I hope you'll like it as much, I'm very proud to share it with you and I'll give it as much love and care as my other baby. Enjoy!

Cherry and coke,

it took him a bit of time to recognize the taste on her lips, as long as it took him to find the beauty in her face. Cherry and coke, that’s how she tastes like, her tongue dancing against his in the confine of his mouth, and their body grinding against each other in the confine of a bleach smelling powder room. He may have heard someone knock once or twice, probably five or six times even, but it all got covered by the sound of her moan and he forgot the apology he has prepared for whoever is waiting their turn outside. 

“You’re gonna touch me or not,” she asks, breath fanning hotly against his chin, gripping on his shoulders harder than on her dignity. 

They are all the same, the omegas he has fucked before, and those he’ll fuck in the future. Expensive on the outside, but as cheap as their duty free perfume on the outside. The only reason why Johnny even got his hand on this one is because she was wearing Versace, and the others were all clad in the same Dior collection, and an alpha like him only choose the most unique piece of the exhibit. 

If he is going to get himself an object to play with, he’d rather be it the one who isn’t in the groupchat, the one who isn’t going to flaunt her accomplishment to the others in the form of silly drunk messages, the one who doesn’t belong in the circle, so excluded that she hasn’t been informed that it’s Dior for tonight.

Another knock resonates against the marble walls when she pushes her long brown hair to the side, before sneaking her hand down his pants, loving how loud his growls are getting by the second. Little marquises like her love to dirty respectable alphas in unrespectable places, and she has mistaken Johnny for one. Because unrespectable alphas like him make little marquises believe they are better than their peers by playing the game. Be a dog for her, and you’ll be a master to her slaves.

“John,” comes as a loud muffled shout from the other side of the door. “I know you’re in there, put your dick back where it belongs and get out!”

“A friend of yours,” little marquise asks, hands running faster on his dick than her mouth does in his ears. 

“Let him pee his pants,” he makes her laugh, and hopefully he’ll make her come. As the French says, a woman who laughs is already halfway into your bed. 

“Maybe he’d like to join us,” she whispers hotly, nibbling the lobe of his left ear and Johnny has to half sit against the sink sloppily to not jerk into her like a clumsy novice. “I have room for two, just in the front.”

“John,” the voice from the other side calls more strictly, announcing a matter of priority rather than a matter of emergency. “I’ve been informed Wong is here, and he wants to see you.”

She’s about to laugh again, totally ignorant to the odd code both men are using to communicate. But the glee in her throat dies when Johnny pecks her cheek once and if she is amazed at how hard it was to craft a boner from him, she is even more amazed at how quickly it dies down. Johnny forgoes another sip of cherry coke and gently pushes her off, helping her with the Versace under her flabbergasted stare. When he is done, he combs his hair back with his fingers, trying to reassure her sudden frown with a little smirk and then he throws the door open, sheepishly smiling at a frowning Mark. A glance down, then a glance up, thank god he didn’t pee his pants or Johnny would have met a more serious frown. 

The beta, Mark, glances behind him, taking in the marquise’s state, grimacing at the waft of cocky pheromone coming off her. Johnny finds it funny, that she has the decency to blush when she was a second away from inviting Mark into their little session. 

“We’ll finish this another time, princess,” the alpha throws behind him before adjusting his suit jacket and following a half running Mark down the corridor to the party raging outside.

“Princess? Really?” The beta makes a turn, closely followed by his friend. “Since when do you call your hookups  _ princess _ ?”

“Oh but I always do,” Johnny says smartly with another smirk before pushing open the double french door leading to the pool party, “When I don’t remember their names.”

To that, Mark shakes his head. He’s been working with Johnny for almost a good five years now, and he can confirm the respect he had for him as a gentleman, or just a man really, went down the drain after the first two years.  _ He’s a nice guy _ , Johnny’s former assistant has told him before vacating her seat,  _ not by definition, by experience.  _ And the beta was left wondering if she said that because she didn’t want him to run away or because she was trying to convince herself she’s been working for a good man.

The gala is exactly how Johnny has left it before  _ princess _ dragged him away by his bowtie. The slow tune of harps covers the city noise, helped by the altitude of the rooftop they are on. The usual cosmopolitan mix of expensive gowns and bland cocktails. Johnny beckons over a waiter, snatching a coupe of kir from his plate to wash off the taste of cheap perfume on his tongue, almost disgusted that it has to go down his throat and soon settle in his stomach. Should have taken a piss before leaving, really. 

“The Jungs have arrived half an hour ago,” Mark informs, adjusting the left strap of his suspenders. He looks like a freaking 1920 cab boy much to Johnny’s dismay who has so generously offered him ten thousand bucks to dress properly. But Mark is always a bit out of place, a sore thumb, and that’s something he kinda likes. What’s better to make him shine than a dull friend by his side.

“How many of them,” the alpha asks looking around the numerous elites maring the party with their distinctive chatter. 

“Chairman Jung and his two sons, look, Jaehyun’s over there.” 

Chairman Jung and his flock of hounds and bastards, strolling like cockerels, admired by the mass by the sheer force of his name only. He is an old scoundrel dressed in fancy garments that try to convince otherwise. Johnny has only seen him on television, and not voluntarily, only when his usual baseball matches are interrupted by breaking news. His mediatic image does no justice to the actual man. The screen paints him as a noble alpha of noble descents, but Johnny only sees the suit and the grey hair. No brand, probably tailor made, no gel, probably unkempt. A man who doesn’t need to try to impress the gallery. 

Then his eyes move a few meters behind him and falls on Jaehyun, Jung Jaehyun, whom others think is his father’s portrait. Upstanding in his records, the clever man graduated from the most prestigious college, and good natured too, from the dimple on his elegant face. Johnny would love to put a bullet through that kind face, or puts his dick deep enough in his cunt, if only he fancied alphas. 

“Two sons?” His question lingers for a moment as Mark doesn’t seem to have an answer either, both pairs of eyes traveling in the crowd. “I only see Jaehyun.”

“Get your fucking rat hands off me!”

Oh, there he is. Said man doesn’t take long to make himself noticed, making it easier for Mark and Johnny to zoom in on him. His screeching voice comes right after the shatters of glass. He is there, standing on the other side of the pool, looking distressed over whatever event put him in a sour mood. Johnny looks at his watch, then back at the man. Only forty five minutes, that’s what it took for the Jungs to have all eyes on them, a bit of a stretch from their usual record, Johnny reckons. And it is the first time he lays eyes on the youngest one of the pack, so it must count for something, they’ll be forgiven.

“He’s fucking gorgeous,” Mark whispers in his glass of martini, a small incredulous cough breaking his confidence. “I thought this was lemonade. But then again why would there be an olive in a lemonade… or in any drink at all. Those rich bastards sure have silly tastes .”

Johnny has seen many blonde omegas before, and they were all pretty, but this one is vicious. Probably because he is now barking at the poor waiter who spilled drinks all over him, or because he is storming away from the party, followed by who he presumes is a staff worker. 

“Why don’t you go and try your luck, then,” Johnny laughs at his assistant who replies with a nasty glare, “but first take me to Wong.”

Wong Lucas, or just Wong as his closest friends call him is tucked away in a private suite far from the raging party, two floors beneath the rooftop. He takes pride in his family name, or in what his deceased father has made of their pack, and feels flattered to be called after him. Johnny has once met him years ago, when the other alpha has threatened to cut his tongue after Johnny has courteously called his mother a whore. None of them can remember exactly what provoked the petty fight, all they remember is the shady pub they were in and the long friendship that followed after it was proven that Lucas’ mother was, indeed, a whore. 

Johnny has been hired to cover the news, Lucas' mother disappeared with her boy toy, leaving behind her rich husband and arrogant son. The years followed their course, more shady pubs, more petty fights, but less grudge. 

Lucas is sitting in the dim lit living room of the suite, behind him stands a built man, serious and watching over the place like a guard dog would. He isn’t the type to go around places like these, this unprotected, especially in those days and age when his reputation and position over the political field are greatly sought after. But there he is, smiling like a toddler when Johnny enters the room, mentioning for the alpha to take a seat and a drink.

“Where’s the rest of your pack?” Johnny rounds the place, shrugging his jacket off and throwing it on the couch. 

“Resting,” Lucas answers, crossing his legs, stretching the tight couture of his fancy slacks and they all fear it might crack under the pressure. “As much as I would have liked it, we don’t want everyone to yell around that Wong is in the building, right? Where’s yours?”

“Well,” Johnny looks beside him, eyeing up and down his 1920 cab boy, awkwardly gesturing at the young boy with a disappointed twist of a lip, “This is Mark, it’s all I have to offer for now.”

“Very funny,” Mark rolls his eyes.

“He’ll do,” Lucas jumps on the joke band wagon. He knows Mark, met him when he joined the Suh’s pack years ago, or when the beta would come fetch Johnny from their drunk nights out to escort him back home; but didn’t give the young boy too much attention. He is a busy man, and young bloods are worth caring for only when they run old. “Jokes aside, I have a job for you.”

“And you summoned me here, now?” The guest falls into the couch, adopting the same sitting position as his friend. “Friends or not, people usually contact my assistant first.”

“Fine,” Lucas nods, leans forwards and looks at a startled Mark right in the eyes. “Forgive me for the short notice, could I book an appointment with your boss?”

“I-...” Mark glances towards said boss, avoiding Wong’s teasing look and is quickly saved from embarrassment when Johnny clears his throat.

“What’s the job about? You rarely call for NIS,” the alpha gives in. 

Correction, Lucas’ pride makes him rarely call for NIS, or any independent intelligent services at all. He has always been the type to hire solo workers and legionnaires who don’t mind getting their hands dirty for the right cause. It doesn’t matter if his closest friend has led Neo Intelligence Services for decades, he’d rather be found dead, face in the gutter than ask Johnny for any favor. Call it tough love, Lucas begs to differ. You don’t ask favor from those you hold close, friendship as a guarantee is never a good idea. He wants results, not abstract promises. 

“There’s someone I want to get rid of,” Lucas leans back, none of them gives it attention when Mark finally releases a breath.

“If you want to carry an assassination, Yuta is your man,” Johnny interrupts, pulling out his pack of cigarettes. He lights one before swirling his lips around the edge, “If you need me, you call my men, Wong. I don’t go on the field.”

“Would you listen first-”

“-I am a busy man, buddy. I won’t deal with some little rats just because you-”

“Listen first, for fuck’s sake,” Lucas grits through his teeth, veins popping on his neck. 

An angry Wong is not a nice sight. Johnny has dealt with it in the past, not the bratty type after two shots of tequila, no, the serious one with a semblance of rabies in his eyes. Now that Johnny looks closer, less than amused at the anger, Lucas kinda looks like a mastiff. Those large breeds of dogs that fight more for honor rather than victory. 

“Lay your cards,” he gives the green light, waving his hand nonchalantly, spreading smoke just to rile his friend up, as if giving in to a petulant child.

“You’ve heard of the next election, Council head,” Lucas seems satisfied of the knowing glint in the other male’s eyes. 

“For which you are running,” the latter says. 

It is no secret around the continent that the Wongs are the usual favorite for the position. Fairly because of blood tradition, but mostly for power and control. The Council leads the countries, made of the most influential packs of the continent. Ministry of defense, economics, health, finances, and all those political bullshits Johnny strays away from, all controlled by the Council. And god knows that in politics, in the most upper and secret circles, those with money talk louder than those who preach democracy. Whoever holds the reins, holds the other packs’ balls, rolling them at their whim until they come without any dignity. 

“And you know who I am running against?” 

“You’re one foolish bastard,” Johnny laughs silently behind his smoke stick, shaking his head to affirm his opinions, “if you think I’m going to touch the Jungs.”

“And you’re one lying bastard if you say you don’t want to.”

Johnny lets it sit for a second. Lucas is very good at reviving the dreams you’ve spent years destroying. The bait is very tempting, even though it has been hanging for too long, now rotten. But men like Lucas and Johnny are hungry sharks, and it doesn’t take too much for them to bite in. Old grudges never die, never before you succumb yourself, they’re just waiting for you to take care of them.

The alpha crushes the cigarette down in the crystal ashtray on the coffee table then looks at Mark.

“Wait outside, go have some fun,” he orders.

“B-but, John-”

“Do what I say if you don’t want those suspenders around your neck.”

“Fine,” the youngest grumbles before slamming the door behind him. 

One day Johnny will get back at him for his insolence, for the young beta is the reason why he will grow white hair soon. For now, he looks back at his friend, nodding at his impatience. See, Johnny doesn’t get involved in politics directly, but being friend with Lucas often drives you off the right path of your beliefs. 

Wong beckons his man over who fetches a brown file from the inner part of his jacket before throwing it on the table. A glance up towards Lucas tells Johnny he isn’t going to like what he is going to read. Don’t misunderstand him, he can spend long afternoons in his study devouring a good Hemingway, but Lucas’ shady ideas are bad novels and rarely best sellers.

A familiar face is on the first page, and no matter how long Johnny looks at it, he can’t help that feeling inside him, he still wants to put a bullet through that gorgeous forehead. He then glances up again, this time towards the ceilling and then back at the other alpha. 

“You’re aware Jung Jaehyun is five feet above us, right?” 

“Very well aware,” Lucas eagerly nods, playful like a child whose request has been met. “Probably charming the crowd into voting for him with those sissy dimples of his. Makes me wanna take a piss in them. How the fuck did you even get an invitation to this party?”

“Matter of fact, they opened the door for me,” Johnny answers with a cocky smile. “My invitation is in the powder room, envelope straight from Versace.”

“One day, your dick is gonna call for your death,” Lucas sighs but not without a laugh threatening his tone. “Anyway, Jung Jaehyun is but an oblivious puppet, obsessed with the will to please his father.”

“Let me guess. Daddy Jung is your target.”

“Bingo.” 

The minion behind Lucas comes up with another file, this time handing it to a waiting Johnny. Nothing he isn’t aware of. Shady businesses in every corner, buried in oceans of legal affairs and politic. Chairman Jung has been swimming with the devil for so long Johnny is surprised his name isn’t somewhere in the Bible. But it sure is in Lucas’ novels, in the middle of accusations that still haven’t been proved yet. 

“Lucas,” Johnny rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, “you know this case is closed. They are not going to open it again, this man has the authorities on his payroll.”

“That’s why I don’t work with the cops, that’s why I am calling for you.”

“The cops don’t work with me,” the man counters. The coppers don’t like him, it’s a known fact. 

“Yes, but they don’t work against you either.” And that’s also a known fact. Johnny has managed to dissimulate his existence to the most noisy ears, but some figures of the big chess game that politic is, trust him. “You’ve been working for some of the biggest packs, buddy. The authorities won’t have a say in it once we expose his ass before the biggest electors.”

“With what proofs? You know his empire would put Fort Knox to shame.” 

“I have proofs.” Well, that’s new. Johnny raises an eyebrow. For years, many have failed on their way to bring Jung senior and his dark secrets down, for the simple fact that there is no trace of his misbehavior, only whispers and rumors from the most stupid ones whose tongues have been cut. “He has a fucking safe to keep track of his businesses.”

“Then just call for a fucking locksmith. I have contacts.”

“A locksmith,” Lucas scoffs, so does his man. “That safe doesn’t exist, Johnny boy. At least not in this world. It’s a digital one.”

He raises a hand before his friend can cut him again. Johnny is so easy to read, sometimes. Lucas can easily say when he is horny, impatient or thirsty. But he can easily guess when the dumbass is about to tell him to hire a hacker as if it is such an easy task. 

“No hacker I’ve hired for the past years have cracked in, I’ve even humiliated myself before the fucking Americans for help. Those idiots pay fortunes in tax for the CIA and what do I get? No result.” 

“Then pray tell how we’ll get in.”

“There’s a line of codes,” Lucas announces, giving a minute to Johnny in case his friend wants to applaud his discovery. He sneers when he gets nothing but a blank stare. “Nobody knows where it’s hidden, they don’t even keep it in their computers, and Jung himself wouldn’t be able to memorize it by heart. That’s how fucking complicated it is.”

“You want me to get it for you, as easy as that?”

As easy as that. Everything is easy when you put your heart to it, right? But they are not idiots. They are greedy men, both of them, often plagued by the boredom of life, that little and petty identity crisis you get when you hit your mid-thirties. So for some reason, they find themselves always turning  _ easy  _ into  _ fucking complicated _ . 

“Jung trusts nobody,” Lucas continues, “Not even his son, even if the little bastard wins the election, which we both hope he doesn’t. But you are going to make sure he trusts you enough to be in his entourage. I’m going to pay you a fucking fortune if you bring him down, dude.”

“I don’t risk my pack’s safety for money, Wong.” 

That said, all in good heart, Johnny bids his friend a goodbye, putting on his jacket before leaving. This is a doomed mission, even for someone as competent as the head of the NIS himself. Sharks like them don’t play in shallow waters. You get harpooned, and skinned, that’s what happens in shallow waters. And Jung, he has a hell lot of fisher boats roaming above the surface. But then again, it’s Lucas, good at reviving the monsters you bury deep inside. And Johnny has read enough about Frankenstein to know what playing with corpses does.

“But I am not talking about money only, John.” The alpha hesitates on the doorknob, sometimes he despises Lucas’ voice, when it waltz with that sweet old tune called revenge. 

Johnny doesn’t answer, he has nothing to say for now so he just leaves. Lucas is a devil and he doesn’t stray in holy places so whatever Johnny has to say, he’ll say it on the Lord’s day when it’s time to confess and he’ll be safe inside a fucking church.

“What did he say? What’s the job?” An eager Mark follows behind him down the hotel corridor. 

The beta is like an excited puppy, and it’s understandable. In the five years he has worked for NIS, all he did was paperwork besides Johnny, filling police reports to cover up assassinations, ordering men around to do the job on the field. He is an innocent fool, unfortunately. The type of fool who goes four years training to be a policeman and who changes vocation upon discovering how fucked up and corrupted the law is. So he thought he joined the angel’s side by joining NIS, and sometimes Johnny pities that naive heart of his.

“I’ll think about the job first,” he says, walking faster just to see Mark struggling keeping up. “Then I’ll tell you if we take it or not.”

“Please, John,” Mark begs, almost jumping up and down on his punny legs, “take it, take it, take it.”

“Listen, boy,” Johnny stops abruptly and the young beta comes colliding against his back. “Here comes a good advice. Sometimes, doing God’s work only brings problems. So next time the devil bribes you, especially the fucking police, close your eyes, take the money and choose life.”

“Damn, and here I thought you were a hero,” Mark huffs, crossing his arms. “Look, I know you don’t like that but I listened through the door, and I really think we should do it. That old geezer has his nose deep in sex trafficking and all those shady shits, somebody has to do it for justice.”

“Mark. Buddy. There’s a fucking reason why the door is closed,” Johnny half yells half whispers. “Now go get the car before I send you away with a kick up your noisy ass.”

Like a grumpy teenager asigned to his room for eternity, the beta stomps away, cursing his boss under his breath and somehow, Johnny wishes the kid breaks nis neck down the stairs before he can reach the car. He just knows it’s Irene’s personal revenge, to have asigned that kid as an assistant before her maternity leave. 

And on top of that, cherry coke is still stuck on his tongue, no matter how much talking and drinking he did. He is about to punch the nearest wall before remembering there are cameras around and he’ll probably have to pay for it. His desire washes down his throat when he hears a loud ruckus coming from a nearby room.

Here’s the thing, Johnny is never a curious man. That’s how he managed to raise his pack this high into the hierarchy and why he is skilled at his job. He knows exactly just what to look into and what he should let go. But if there is one thing that makes an alpha loses his mind, it’s what between an omega’s legs. Not because he is a shallow man, but because he is an observant man. Omegas are not listened to, shadows of the society most of the time, and that’s what makes him curious. If you want to know what’s scheming in the shadows, the secrets nobody yell around, listen to an omega.

“Are you an idiot?” Comes the voice from behind the door.

Whoever is on the other side has been careless enough to let the door slightly ajar, enough for any bystander, in this case Johnny, to watch. Try to forget about a Jung and another one falls into your hands. It’s another suite room, identical to Lucas’, identical to the numerous other ones filling this floor. 

If he looked vicious by the pool, the Jungs youngest son is even more tempting away from the moonlight, hidden in places where nobody sees him, like a jewel waiting to be found. And Johnny does find him, leaning against a desk, a black mesh fabric clenched in his hand and a bowing staff before his eyes. 

“What is this?” He asks, throwing the cloth which the desolated omega worker before him catches with pure shock written on her face. 

“S-sir,” she stutters, looking at the shirt in her hand. It is obviously made to be a replacement for the damp shirt the youngest Jung is still wearing, aftermath of the pool fiasco. “Y-your brother said to find something fancy and expensive. We got it from the latest collection, sir.”

Dolce, Johnny recognizes the brand, a piece the most elitist brats would run after, only if they could afford it. And here is the Jung omega, throwing it around as if it is only good enough to wipe his feet after a swim. That dirty part of Johnny can only imagine the shirt on that delicious body and he is sure that if the omega wears it tonight, the tabloids will have nothing but compliments for him in the morning. 

“The latest collection,” the omega scoffs, blonde wavy hair waltzing with the move of his head. He snatches the fabric back, shoving it in the woman’s face as if she can’t see it enough from a fair distance. “Look at it, take a goddamn look at it. You want me to look like a fucking slut out there? Fucking take it back and find me something decent.”

The woman almost collides into the alpha on our way out if not for his quick reflexes. The omega inside sighs, combing delicate pale fingers through his blonde locks and damn, Johnny could pull them and mess them here and there is he wasn’t a good mannered man. 

“What a pity,” he says leaning against the door frame, his sole purpose is to get noticed. “You would have looked delectable in it.”

“Who the fuck are you?” The omega finally looks at him. 

Johnny is not the type to often hear the angels sing, and it’s a good thing because right now, he hears the raging drums of hell. If he could get closer, he’d smell the omega and finally wash off the cherry coke, but he decides not to even he is tempted to know what perfume matches such a beautiful face. 

“Just a passing by friend,” he shrugs, not dissimulating his interest at all. “Martini smells good on you.”

He gestures to the obvious stain on the omega’s shirt, and receives a sneer. What a goddamn shame kitties are born with snake tongues nowadays. 

“Fuck off,” the youngest Jung curses and Johnny raises his hands in mock surrender. 

“Just an innocent advice, from an innocent passing by friend.” 

If he hears a bang after closing the door, it’s probably because the omega is riled up enough to think about him even after he is gone. Johnny stands behind the door for a few seconds, think about how Mark is probably waiting in the car, cursing his name loud enough for the whole street to hear, then makes a beeline in the opposite direction.

Maybe he is possessed, that’s often what he tells himself when he is about to make a bad choice. A bad choice, but a good decision, may Jesus help him. 

“Where is Wong?” he calls as soon as he is back inside the previous suite he’s been him.

Lucas’ guard dog jumps up from where he is sitting on the couch, startled by the explosive entrance of their friend and awkwardly gestures to the door leading to the bathroom. Without an ounce of hesitation, Johnny barges him.

Lucas curses loudly from where he is standing in front of the toilet bowl, dick and balls out, almost pissing over himself and his expensive slacks.

“Fucking hell, Suh!” He breathes, finishing his little private business before zipping his pants up. 

“I won’t even ask why you didn’t lock the door.” He doesn’t leave the time for Lucas to say a thing before continuing. “I want a house on the hills, not any house, the one facing the Jungs. I’m taking care of the rest, just put a good word about me around the political sphere.”

He is about to leave before he backtrakcs, pointing at his friend’s bottoms.

“You might want to take that piss stain off your trousers before walking out.”

  
  
  
  


Mark stands in awe before the entrance,

jaw dropping to his shoes. Mark is a simple boy, from a simple family, and never in his twenty five years of life has he seen something as grand as this. He knew that one day, being a martyr under Johnny’s cause would pay back. 

He is currently waiting in front of their new abode for the next months, maybe less, maybe more, depending on how long they’ll rest the case. And when Mark admires the two storey villa, all white walls and white concrete rising to the sky in a modern day palace, he can’t help but wish the mission will take forever. He even read from the files, now in his hand, that there’s a pool. He has been to Johnny’s current condo before, a marvellous piece of design if you ask him, but it doesn’t come nowhere close to the houses lining the residential hill Lucas chose for them. 

A roar comes behind him and Mark turns around, mood dropping where his jaw previously was. Here comes the downside of this privilege, Johnny fucking Suh driving up the alley in his pompous Audi, a dick extension if you ask the beta. Mark can lie and say he is not petty, but Johnny never let anyone drive his cars and the poor boy is left to use the subway on a daily basis when his douche of a superior gets to live comfortably. Yuta often reminds him that it’s because dangerous men are ready to pay fortunes to have the head of NIS dead, therefore, Johnny thinks he is entitled to taste the good life before he dies. As if the rest of them aren’t hunted by bounty hunters either. 

“What do you think, Markie boy?” Johnny steps out of his car, duffel bag hanging on his shoulder, taking off his sunglasses as he pats the assistant on the back. 

“I think that I’ll take bid on the biggest room,” the beta says excitedly, already imagining how it would be to to dive in an ocean of pillow and spend the night in silky bathrobes, watching his favorite show on a gigantic screen until morning comes.

“Keep on dreaming kid, it’s good for the mental,” Johnny teases, stepping over to take a look around. 

Unlike Mark who is running around to marvel at every corner, Johnny isn’t really interested in the grandeur of it all. There’s a balcony, facing east, where sun rises, two rooms facing the same way with bay windows, and it’s all that matter. He needs a good observatory deck on the Jungs residence. Soon, he’ll have to welcome some of his men to keep guard on the place, so the size is decent enough. 

“Say, John,” Mark comes joining him upstairs where he is studying the rooms, trying to map escape routes in his mind. “Are we going to get some staff too?”

“Sorry to break it to you, boy,” Johnny brushes past his assistant, going for another room, a small one of a decent size, adjacent to a bathroom, “But you’ll have to clean after yourself. And after me too.”

This room has the view he expected. One on the second floor of the Jungs residence where the bedrooms are, and one on the bay window covering Jung senior’s study. 

“Well, budy, congrats,” Johnny says, throwing his bag on the bed. “Looks like you’ll get the master bedroom in the end. I’m taking this one.”

He has to wipe off the fatherly smile on his face when the beta cheers, running across the hallway to go and bask in his new kingdom. That kid will be the death of him. 

Johnny clears the desk that occupies the space before his window, and with practiced hands he builds up a telescope that he proceeds to hide with the desk again. It’s been so long since he’s been on the field that it revives a sentiment of nostalgia in him. It comes to a point where he feels envy when he hears Yuta and Taeil talking about their missions when they are back at the quarter, that time when he thought he was fighting for justice only, not taking scheming immoral affairs with bigger men. It used to be a job driven by passion, and now it’s more of an habit, because he isn’t sure he knows how to do something else anymore. He is the head of a pack, and acting like it has become a primary nature.

When he is done, he takes a shower, spray a bit of cologne and get dressed in his best attire, as best as you can get in a posh neighborhood like this one.

“What are you doing,” Mark asks when he comes peeking in his room, a bag of chips in his hand. “Are we going somewhere?”

“Put on your best couture, big boy,” he tells the beta, adjusting his cufflinks before the mirror, then take a glance at his watch, “we’re late.”

“Where to?”

“Why, to greet our neighbours, of course.”

When they meet before the car, Johnny has to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. Mark really has an unhealthy obsession with fucking suspenders. 

“Where’d you put your gun?”

“In my jacket, you take me for an idiot?” Mark opens the door, angsty teenager mode and slumps in the passenger seat. 

“We never know,” Johnny shrugs, barely guilty, feeling up his own pistol.

The gate opens easily when they cross the Jungs estate, nothing short of breath taking, so much the beta says something along the lines of  _ “Crazy what dirty money can buy.” _ By the way they easily drive by the security, Johnny guesses Lucas has, indeed, put a good word for him. Their work is based on trust, so Johnny doesn’t question whatever motive there is behind the warm welcome the Jungs pack has for him. 

He has taken many identities in this life, for the sake of his job, but this one is barely one, it flirts with a semblance of truth. Suh Johnny, political advisor, graduated from Stanford with an impressive resume. The college form is a true one, the rest is utter bullshits. But Johnny is skilled at diplomacy and politic, it’s the basic skill to thrive in what he does. 

“Phone Taeil,” he orders when they park, “tell him to track your phone, to the tiniest millimeter.”

“Why, you’re afraid I’m going to run off,” Mark questions like the airhead he is.  _ Just a push, John, just a tiny push _ , he tells himself in those kind of moment. He can’t obviously punch a kid in the face.

“No,” he opens his door and so does Mark. The entrance door opens, as if in command of their presence and when a man, clad in a butler suit strolls up to them, Johnny speaks through his teeth. “I want the map of this house, so you’re going to stroll around, wherever they allow you to.”

“And what are you gonna do while I do that?”

“Sympathize.”

The stranger bows, accomodating to Johnny’s practiced smile. 

“Mr Suh, welcome to the Jungs humble abode.”

“I hope I’m not late,” he politely asserts when the butler looks over to the young boy standing besides him. “This is Mark, an assistant.”

“Then he shall be treated as a prince,” the man smiles, guiding them inside. “I know Mr Jung invited you over, but unfortunately, he took a last minute flight. His son will be here shortly to assist you, he is on his way back.”

“Jaehyun will do perfectly,” he answers. “Anyone I can converse with while I wait?”

Johnny strolls around the big living room, studying the place the same way he did for his own villa. Jung is a smart man, a guard nearby each flower pot, staffs roaming around, he wouldn’t hide a treasure in a place where any clumsy hand can fall on it. 

“Well, his youngest is here, but I am afraid he has some friends over.” The man then bows politely, “I’ll let you be then, make yourself at home, we’ll bring refreshment over.”

  
  
  
  


“F-fuck…,”

shameless moans fill the four walls of his own private study. Taeyong grips the hem of his silk shirt, another hand around neck of whoever it is that’s pounding their dick in him. He is a second away from drooling, the beta’s humonguous dick hitting that bundle of nerve over and over again. 

Right beneath him, under his desk, another stimulus keeps his dick occupied as an alpha sucks on the head of his dick, smearing precum all over the length with his pretty slave lips. Taeyong is on cloud nine, and not only because he has musculars men at his command, ready to suck him off and fuck him up whenever he wants. It’s probably because of the white line of powder lined on his desk, and he bends over to sniff another shot when the beta slaps his ass with each thrust. 

Taeyong’s cheek falls, squeezed against the wood when the man grips his hair, forcing him to bend over even more just to catch the curve of his hips with his cock. The omega’s sight blurs and he barely can manage to keep his eyes open when the coke went straight to his head, and the other guy’s tongue straight to his balls. 

“Can… Can I come,” the beta grunts from behind him, and Taeyong manages a delirious hum, his drool dempening whatever paper he was working on before his guests showed up. 

He is so close, hands gripping his shirt tighter and tighter, mouth open in silent pleasure, ready to pump his juice down whoever’s throat’s around his cock-

“Sorry to interrupt the show,” and it all dies down. 

The beta startles out of him, backing off, scared that the man who just caught them might be some kind of journalist or any important birds flocking around Taeyong’s father. The omega coughs out his drool, propping himself up on his palms and wipe the stain of white on his face before lifting his eyes up to the stranger who interrupted them.

Stranger? That face is familiar, so familiar Taeyong thought he saw him once in his dreams. He slaps the alpha’s cheeks under the desk, gently with a rough “Get off. Get out, both of you.”

Taeyong falls back in his leather swivel chair, rubbing his eyes off before pulling his jeans up, hoping that the man leaning against the door frame with a cocky smirk on his face is just a mirage, courtesy of his brain these days, filling the corner of his mind with the face of an annoying stranger. 

“You’re fucking everywhere, aren’t you?” His speech is a bit slurred but it doesn’t worry him, cocaine crushes the brain quiet fast, but quickly dies down too. 

The alpha scoffs, standing up straighter and Taeyong is afraid his dick is throbbing again. He is tall, well built, devilishly so under his blue shirt and black slacks, hair gently falling on his annoying face in wonderful comas. Taeyong doesn’t deal well with pretty boys, he always want them to choke on his dick at hello. 

“Funny you’re thinking that,” the alpha says, “because if you saw me everywhere, I would have seen you too, and believe me I’d remember a face like yours. But I don’t.”

And smart with his mouth too, Taeyong likes pretty boys with tongues as wild as horses. Pretty boy is an odd way to put it when the man looks obviously older, and Taeyong abused brain tries to do the maths. If he is twenty four, then this bitch must be… Oh fuck it, he’ll ask when he’ll remember how to. 

“What are you here for?” 

The omega stumbles a bit when he stands up but quickly finds back his footing. His brain is gushing back into shape, providing his sense with fresh oxygen and a new will to think on its own. He buttons back his shirt, tucks it in his pant and then approaches the man. Goodness gracious, he smells heavenly too. Isn’t there any other flaws on this specimen except being annoying?

“Your father invited me over,” the stranger shrugs, and by the way he eyes Taeyong up and down, he must be smelling him too. He has heard countless times how delicious his scent is, and those same countless times he has answered  _ “Then come and get a taste.” _

“Step father,” Taeyong rolls his eyes, combing down the mess he uses as hair, and beckons for the man to follow him out. “He is not here, want a tour?”

“Gladly,” the alpha answers, following right after him. 

It’s not an unusual service in the high society surrounding them. Whoever is loaded enough to be their neighbours, is loaded enough to be their friends. Of course Taeyong has heard about him, everyone in a mile radius has. Except golfing and fucking maids, there is not much to do around those hills than gossiping, and it didn’t go unnoticed when Jaehyun and his dad talked proudly about this new advisor from Stanford who works miracle for the heads of some packs, and who, coincidentally, moved next door. 

“So,” the alpha tries as a conversation when they make their way to the front of the house, hands behind his back like the well mannered man he is, “Lee Taeyong, heard your mother remarried into the Jungs.”

“You made your reasearches?” Taeyong stops a second, turning to the man with a raised brow before continuing.

“Just read gossip columns.” 

“There’s not much to the estate,” the omega introduces, almost lazily, to change the topic. He has heard that story so many times, from strangers and friends. The sordid story of the Lees, so much that he wonders if housewives are using it as a bed time story for their spoiled offsrpings. “But you’ll probably be invited to the golfing course over there, now that you’re a neighbour.”

Taeyong points to the field of green grass seen from the living room, extending to the lake in the horizon. What he doesn’t know is that the guest doesn’t care and opt to look at his face instead. 

“If you’re going to stare, might as well introduce yourself,” the omega puts his finger down, crossing his arms and turn to the alpha.

“You already know, just a friend passing by.” The alpha teases him and Taeyong loses his footing a second, wemcomed by a warm chuckle. “But if you insist, just in case you want to put me in that repertoire of boy toys you have, the name’s Suh Johnny.”

“It’s curious,” Taeyong says, lips pulling into a smirk. He leaves the man’s side to pour himself a glass of tonic water from the service they have probably prepared for Johnny. “You see, I am my university’s politic club president. And one of our duty is to keep an eye on whatever is going on in the field-”

With an arm still crossed around his waist, the other one holding his glass up, he walks to the alpha, analyzing his face, trying to remember if he has seen him somewhere, in any papers, before. He then points his finger and holds it against the alpha’s chest, more of a secret desire to touch rather than an attempt at intimidation.

“-keep check on the big names out there,” he continues, squinting his eyes at the man who only maintains the hint of a polite smile. Charming, very charming. “And I’ve never heard of you.”

“And yet, the Wongs have,” the alpha steps back, knowing fully well the seduction power he has over the omega. He then opens his arms in mock surrender. “Fine, you busted me. I’m a bit of a freelancer and I might have overselled myself. Head alphas don’t talk about me, I’m their dirty little secret.”

Taeyong scoffs, taking a sip of his drink but Johnny, or whoever the fuck he pretends he is, snatches the glass away, putting it back on the table before leaning into his vicinity. So close that Taeyong wishes it’s him who fucked his ass back there, in his study. 

“But I could be yours,” he murmurs hotly in his ear, and the heat is enough to melt away the memory of any man Taeyong has ever fancied. 

“You’re a great speaker, but that’s not enough to move me,” Taeyong scoffs again, fingers walking up the man’s torso playfully, a little dance of their own, barely touching. “A real gentleman would fix the mistake he made.”

“Oh, and what mistake is that,” Johnny pulls back, enjoying the slight flush of the omega’s face. 

“You could at least pick up where you interrupted,” and boldly, with those words, Taeyong takes the alpha’s hand, pushing against the tent in his pants. 

Johnny might have been possessed, again. Next thing he knows, he taste the rosy lips before him, pushing his tongue for a breach. Taeyong grants it, palming himself with the alpha’s hand, the other arm snaking around his neck, lips devouring each other. 

He tastes just the way he smells, Johnny notices, and his ming goes back to the scent of martini on the younger, back in that hotel room, and he might have discovered himself a new kink just by kissing the omega. His hand comes ravishing the expension of the shorter’s skin under his shirt, thumb playing on the lower buttons but Taeyong quickly catches his wrist, cutting their tongue fight. 

“The fucking shirt stays on,” he whispers against the taller’s lips. 

Their height difference turns the omega on so much, when he has to stand on his tiptoes to even reach. How would it feel like to stand on his tip toes when the man fucks his brain out? 

Johnny is about to dive in again when the echoes of footsteps approaching cuts them, and Taeyong detaches himself fastly as if the simple touch of an alpha could burn his skin. He pretends to ignore the questioning gaze the man is throwing him, opting to look towards the door. Johnny finds it funny, that sudden innocence when a few minutes ago, he didn’t even mind being caught in a threesome. 

Something clicks in Johnny’s brain when his eyes zeroes on Taeyong’s upper body. He might have caught it, that glint of hope he was looking for when the shirt rode too high on his waist, but for now, he shrugs it at the back of his head. And he must when he sees who has just arrived. 

“Taeyong, aren’t you at school?” 

Jaehyun and all his self sufficient, intelligent, and gentle glory. Johnny has read about him before, the same way he has read about Taeyong, whether it be in the magazines or in files he dubiously obtained. The Jungs sibling, philantropist, smart, successful, loved, a well carved reputation for those who are promised the throne. The only difference is that Johnny recently discovered that Lee Taeyong might be less genuine than his older brother. 

“Caught a flu. I presume here for Mr Suh,” and suddenly, this isn’t the Taeyong who’s been fucked around in his study, nor the cold one who pretended to play Johnny’s game. This is a gentle one. Curious. 

Jaehyun offers them both a dazzling smile and by god, Johnny swears Lucas should take a piss in those dimples. They are so deep he might catch a few dark secrets in them. 

“Nice to meet you, Mr Suh, I’m Jaehyun,” Jaehyun shakes his hand, manners as astounding as his tone. “I’ve heard a lot of great things about you, I hope we get to work together in the future.”

“Likewise,” Johnny responds, adding a little bow to the handshake. “But I’m afraid you’re a little late for our meeting, I unfortunately have other duties to meet. Your brother has been of a good help, to keep me entertained.”

“That’s our Taeyong,” Jaehyun says proudly, more than when he introduced himself. He circles his step brother’s shoulder in a warm half embrace, and that must be the warmest thing Johnny has seen in this goddamn ice palace. “Do you know he’s the president of a politic club, might take over some big positions one day.”

The guest raises an eyebrow, finding it comical the way Taeyong teasingly punches his brother with a smile. Noted, the siblings are close, and either Jaehyun is totally acting blind to his brother’s shenanigans, or he doesn’t know. Johnny would opt for the second option. 

“I’ve heard so,” the guest says. “Well, it was nice to come over and say hello, but I’m in a bit of a rush.”

“Forgive me again, for my tardiness,” Jaehyun sticks to his elegant behavior. “But we have a little friend gathering this week end, nothing too fancy, you could come over if you’d like. You might not miss my father this time.”

Johnny catches it when the omega’s eyes widen, as if repulsed by that idea.

“I’ll take you up on that offer,” he replies, something in the shorter’s alarmed state entertains the devil in him. 

“What did you find?” Johnny asks Mark who’s waiting by their ride once he is done bidding goodbye to the Jungs. 

“They have eyes everywhere, I could barely enter a room without someone following me,” Mark sighs, rubbing his face. “But I doubt they have what we are looking for here. No cameras, only guards. Chairman Jung obviously doesn’t care about the safety of this house.”

“Nope, not this house’s,” Johnny says, receiving Mark’s impatient stare, “only guards, you say? He is worried about something else’s safety, more like someone’s.”

  
  
  
  
  


“So, you’ve met him?”

First thing first when evening turns into night, Taeyong is summoned in chairman Jung’s study. The man isn’t home often, barely, sometimes on the weekend when he isn’t on a business trip, sometimes on the weekdays when he wants to hide away from the crowd. Like today. 

There was no last minute flight, the old man is way too cautious, and Taeyong isn’t surprised. When you act like a sinner, you hide like one. So cautious that he sent his own sons to meet someone who might be a potential danger to him. Truth be told, the omega wasn’t even supposed to be in his vicinity, but Suh Johnny has just decided to knock on his door like a fucking cult witness. 

“Just an ordinary man,” Taeyong shrugs, staying right where he is, a good feet away from the man’s desk. “I’ve seen his type before, trying to make a name in the political game through connections. Nothing you have to worry about.”

“Good,” the chairman nods, a smile playing on his lips. Taeyong can’t wait the day Jaehyun takes over the Jung packs and they burry this old fuck six feet down there, closer to hell, where he belongs. “Good boy.”

The head alpha circles around his desk and Taeyong takes a feet back, not daring to back off more. He knows how it usually ends up when he makes the wrong move. He has known, ever since he turned thirteen and his mother remarried into the Jungs, that this family will bring him nothing more than troubles. 

The man stalks around his space like the fucking predator he is, and Taeyong doesn’t know why, every time, he freezes. He has tried to convince himself before that it’s not weakness, not fear. But he has only brainwashed himself into believing the contrary. Every time, every fucking time those wrinkled eyes fall on him, he is paralyzed, like a prey caught in a bear trap, one foot in, a wrong move and he loses a leg.

“Good boy,” the chairman repeats and Taeyong’s breath staggers in his mouth when a rough hand comes palming his dick through his pant.

Scream and you’ll tongue will be cut off, talk and your tongue will be cut off, cry and your eyes will be plucked off, that’s how it is around here, in this system he was born in. And to tell some envies him, and to tell the tabloids paint him as a privileged, gifted jewel, when he is nothing but a chiffon doll. Thrown for the dogs to chew when he’ll lose his beauty, that’s what happens to chiffon dolls.

The alpha rubs and rubs until Taeyong has to restrain a sob, fearing that if he makes a sound, he’ll be thrown against the wall like every fucking time. He doesn’t know why, in that exact moment, he thinks about Johnny’s hand there, where it has been this afternoon. It’s different, it is not disgusting, it didn’t make him throw up. 

It’s when the chairman gets too close to his face that Taeyong stops him, jerking back.

“Don’t fucking touch me like that, you disgusting fuck,” welcomed by a sharp and quick slap that must have dislocated his jaw if it was any stronger. 

“Remember one thing, Taeyong,” the man sneers through his teeth, enraged by his resistance. It’s the same thing every time, the man’s hand sneaking up Taeyong’s back as he bites in tears, those fingers tracing letters and unknown words on his back. “You belong to me, you’re marked, and you shall act like it.”

He then shrugs his hold around his step son with a shove that has the omega stumbling back.

“You’re dismissed.” 

Taeyong stomps away, there’s nowhere he can run to, he is trapped in this goddamn house, in those goddamn claws. He falls against a concole table, in the sitting room linking the bedrooms to each other and then, only then, he can only himself to shed tears. They’ve stopped being tears of sadness a long ago, they are tears of anger, against himself, against everything he has become. 

With ragged breath, he fetches for his phone, typing a message for whoever comes first on his screen. “Science lab, building 3, tomorrow at nine, I want you to fuck me.” He throws the phone on the concole table, rubbing his face as if weak hands could chase away the man’s breath from his face. This is so humiliating, to the point he wants to rip his eyes, nose, lips off his bones, that damned face of his is the curse that got him in this in the first place.

He grabs the crystal ashtray straying on the table in a fit of rage, raises it above his head, it would be so satisfying to see it shatter on the floor, until the day comes he’ll burn this fucking place down-

“You might want to put that thing down.”

“Mother,” Taeyong says, looking at the woman who leaves her bedroom, clad in bathrobe. 

He does as told, bitter he can’t even satisfy such a simple urge. Her eyes say she’s done crying, and the state of her hair hints at frustration. She’s tired to the bone, exahsuted, yet Taeyong has stopped pitying her, or whatever ghost she has became. 

She knows, she fucking knows. From the bruises around his waist, to the taste of the filthy cum that sometimes smears on his jeans when the old fuck asks him to sit down and watch. But it’s the same excuse every time, she’s skilled at repeating them like an open book of spells to brain wash him. 

_ “I’ve worked my ass off to get us into this family.”, “All I do, it’s for you.”, “Shut up and be pretty, it’s your turn to work for my comfort.” _

“Who are you going to speak to-”

“M-mom, he fucking touched-”

“Who. Are you. Going to speak to?”

Taeyong gulps, schooling down his rage, wiping his tears with his sleeves and then looks at her right in her empty and souless eyes.

“Nobody,” he murmurs.

“What happened in that study?”

“Nothing.”

She nods, satsified. 

“Speak one word of it to anyone at all, and your brother will have to hear about whatever games you’re playing with the gentlemen and those stack of powder in your room. Worst, speak of it to anyone at all, and you can say goodbye to your reputation.”

“Understood, mother.”

And that’s what the magazines don’t say. People never read between the lines, because if they did, they’d see the tear stains he’s left on the page, like a lost kid hoping someone will find him. 

  
  
  
  


“Pray tell what you are doing?”

Mark is just out of a nice bath, in that nice marble bathtub Lucas so nicely provided for them. He got bored out of his mind, waiting for Taeil to manifest with his map so he strolled around, until he caught his boss sitting behind a telescope aimed on the Jungs residence.

“Looking into Taeyong’s bathroom,” the man nonchalantly answers, eyes not leaving the object. 

“You’re fucking sick in the head man,” Mark laughs. 

Johnny pulls back a second, scribbling something in a note book, anything worth of interest at all. Not like Mark thinks there is nothing interesting about the omega’s bathroom. At least not for him. 

The alpha beckons him over, handing him his phone before looking back into the monocular. Mark’s eyes fall on a website, not the type he usually visits, and certainly not something someone like Johnny should be having on his screen. Dolce’s website, to be precise, opened on a foreign model, pale face, redhead, sporting a mesh top, a bit too revealing. 

“What do you think of it,” Johnny asks absent mindedly.

“Hmm, I wouldn’t wear it but it’s very hot, beautiful, outsanding,” Mark stops a second, eyes bulging at the price. “Why are you asking this?”

Johnny’s legs jerk subtly when he finally get a glimpse of the omega through his lense. The younger has just entered the bathroom, dropping his clothes, piece after piece on the floor. The image is a bit blurry, but with more adjustment, he could see better. 

“Why wouldn’t anyone wear it if it’s handed on a silver plate?”

The beta ponders for a moment, finger on his chin, mainly wondering if his boss has finally turned crazy. Serves him well. 

“I don’t know,” Mark shrugs, “You wouldn’t wear it if you’re a prude.”

“For fuck’s sake, Mark,” Johnny curses, glancing at the beta for a short second, then goes back to his little spying session. “Have a little bit of imagination, would you?”

“I’m not the creep behing the telescope,” Mark jokes, earning himself a middle finger. 

“Taeyong is sure as hell, not a prude.” 

“Ok then what is it about,” the beta gets impatient. Maybe he should go back to his room and start writing his resigning letter. On a second thought, that would make Yuta whine about how he can’t be the only one in the pack left to deal with Johnny. 

“You remember when I said Jung is protecting someone, and not something?”

Mark hums.

“I found the line of code.”

“What?” He half runs behind Johnny, trying to catch whatever the man is catching but only see a pale dot where the light of the bathroom is blurring his lines. “What about the mesh top?”

“It’s all about the mesh top, Mark.” Johnny zooms in when Taeyong faces his mirror, back to them. A little bit more focus and there it is, impossible to read from such a distance, but there nonetheless, Johnny’s guts were right. Starting from Taeyong’s lower back, up to the center of his spine, the blurry ink of a way too long tattoo to just be some butterflies. “As you said, a bit too revealing.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> That's it for now!! What did you guys think? Leave comments and feedbacks if you want, so excited to share a new ride with all of you!!
> 
> my twt: [twt](https://twitter.com/tiana098)


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